<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The mirror crack'd from side to side by BroadwayBaggins</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23718838">The mirror crack'd from side to side</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins'>BroadwayBaggins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mercy Street (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Recovery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:02:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23718838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She no longer recognized the woman in the mirror.</p>
<p>Or, in which Jed tries to persuade Mary to take a stroll, but Mary is not so sure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jedediah "Jed" Foster/Mary Phinney</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The mirror crack'd from side to side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffhermione/gifts">hufflepuffhermione</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>She was tying her bonnet beneath her chin when she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At first she was startled, thinking perhaps that she’d seen a ghost of some sort--her brothers <em>had</em> always teased her that Aunt Agnes’ house was haunted, and much of her childhood was spent looking over her shoulder for lurking phantoms whenever they visited--for it could not possibly be her own reflection that she saw looking back at her! Mary had avoided mirrors fastidiously for this very reason, not wanting to see how the typhoid had ravaged her body. She could feel well enough the lingering effects of the illness; the new weakness in her limbs, a slight tremor in her left hand that Jed swore up and down would go away on its own, and if it did not, there were exercises that they could try to regain her strength. Her once-slender body was now skinny as a scarecrow, her ribs and other bones far more prominent now than they had ever been. Her hair, once as sleek as she could manage while working in Mansion House, was lank and limp and she was thankful of her bonnet that his most of it from view. And her face! Who was this pale wraith looking back at her, with sunken cheeks and huge eyes rimmed by dark circles, looking so haunted and exhausted that Mary stretched out a hand to the mirror, rubbing her palm against the glass, as if her reflection were just a ripple in a pond that she could erase easily.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary Phinney liked to think that she was not a vain woman. But the reflection in the mirror...this did not resemble her in the slightest. And that frightened her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right!” A jolly voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she took a step back from the offending mirror. Jed strolled into the entryway, a grin on his face and a spring in his step as he held out a shawl for Mary to layer over her dress, her coat, and her <em>other </em>shawl that she held clutched in one hand. “Just in case,” he said softly, handing it off to her. “Aunt Agnes is finishing getting ready, and she has promised to keep a respectable distance behind us, giving us a bit of privacy without allowing anything untoward. Are you ready?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Jed, I can’t go out.” Mary’s clothing suddenly felt more constricting than ever, and she longed for her nightgown and bed upstairs, where Jed would read to her and hold her hand and she would never have to worry about her appearance. “I can’t, I’m too tired--”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’re just going down to the end of the street and back, Mary. That’s all we’re doing for today. You need exercise, fresh air, and sunshine. I’m happy to accompany you on the former, and the great city of Boston itself has been so kind as to supply you with the latter after so many gray days! It would be a shame to waste this one, Mary. Just to the end of the street and back, and then you can rest. I’ll be there the whole time.” He set his hand on her arm and patted it gently, hoping to reassure her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Oh, this man! He actually thought that she was fearful of overtiring herself, when the truth was much more damning. “It isn’t that,” she said softly, turning away from him. “It’s...you’ll think me ridiculous.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never,” he promised. “Tell me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighed, gesturing vaguely with her free hand, “If I go out, they will see me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t seem to understand. “Who?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Everyone--anyone! My neighbors, strangers on the street. I don’t look like myself, Jed, and I know it’s vain but I cannot help it. This...this woman--” She gestured harshly towards their reflections in the mirror, “this is not me! The typhoid has taken so much from me I don’t even recognize myself anymore, and I don’t want anyone to see.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mary...” Jed’s voice was full of such tenderness that Mary had to look away, for she did not deserve it. “I understand, Mary, I do. But you are beautiful, typhoid or no. And you need to go outside, just for a few moments. I’ll be with you the whole time, and Aunt Agnes too, and if anyone has one word to say about it they’ll have the two of us to answer to.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary knew he was trying to coax a smile out of her, but she could not. “I can’t go, Jed,” she whispered. “Perhaps another day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mary. Look at yourself in that mirror.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t want to, but she obeyed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you see?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary let out a scornful chuckle. “A living corpse? The stuff of children’s nightmares?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Mary</em>,” he chided, and she immediately felt remorse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry. I see a woman who looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten in a week or more, even though neither is true. A woman who still needs assistance with the most simple of tasks, when she used to be able to work the wards all night long. I see a woman I do not recognize.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you finished?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary nodded.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“May I tell you what I see?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“By all means.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I see a woman who has survived. I see a woman who has fought a dreadful illness, and won, and she will be stronger for it one day even if she cannot see it now. I see someone who is to be praised and admired, not ridiculed or laughed at. And yes, I see a beautiful woman, because you are my Mary and no illness could ever change that for me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary found herself blinking back a tear. “Jed...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And if you don’t agree, just take a closer look. I’m sure you’ll see her too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary’s second tear was brushed away by Jed himself, who took the time to gather her in his arms and place a kiss on the top of her head. Aunt Agnes, miraculously, did not materialize during this time, and Mary allowed herself to savor Jed’s embrace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just to the end of the street and back?” she asked as she pulled away, her arms still locked around his waist.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes sparkled with mischief. “For today, yes. And then tomorrow we shall see what happens.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The wonderful hufflepuffhermione prompted me with Phoster and "mirror", so this is the result. I do  hope I've gotten poor Aunt Agnes' name right, as I always seem to forget it! This takes place post season 2 when Mary is well on the road to recovery, but feeling a little less-than-confident about her new post-typhoid state. I lovingly borrowed some of Mary's side effects of the illness from the incomprable middlemarch, and I hope she doesn't mind!</p>
<p>Title comes from Tennyson's "The Lady of Shalott".</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>